inshore areas where a really cunning American CO like Judd might go. Where he would be least expected.”
Joe Mulligan stared at the chart of the southern coast of China and nodded thoughtfully.
“Then there’s a bit of a fluke,” said Arnold Morgan. “The fuckers trip over each other. And, lo and behold, the Chinese have the devil that’s been haunting them for several days.…Wily little bastards try to put us off the scent with a succession of hurt but helpful messages. Meanwhile they steal
“And that, Admiral, IS WHY I HAVE TO BE KEPT INFORMED OF EVERY LAST DUMBASS DEVELOPMENT THAT GOES ON IN YOUR DUMBASS NAVY CONCERNING CHINA…BECAUSE NOBODY ELSE GETS IT…EXCEPT ME.”
Admiral Mulligan took his life in his hands. “Is there even a remote possibility that you may be wrong, Arnie?”
“Fuck off, Joe. And don’t sound retarded even if you are.”
The big CNO almost choked with laughter on his tenth cookie, because the truth was, Morgan was right. “
“Just think about it, Joe. Here we have one hugely pissed-off Chinese Navy, being given the runaround by the Americans. Finally, they get lucky. They have in their possession the submarine that will save ’em the trouble of this type of espionage for years and years.
“Joe, they are planning to copy that ship down to the last detail. If necessary they will torture key men in the crew to get the know-how, and it’s my guess we’ll never see either the men or
“They’ll either jail ’em, after some trumped-up trial, or they’ll just go missing. It’s such a vast country, so fucking mysterious, we’d never be able to find ’em.”
“Well, if that’s your take on it, I’ll just get up and go, and you can give the President a quick call and announce the impending death of his only son. Good luck.”
Admiral Morgan laughed, nervously for him. “Siddown, Joe. I’m not saying we acquiesce to any of this. I’m just trying to lay down the Chinese mindset. A worst-case scenario, I admit. But if we’re gonna tackle it, we may as well face up to it. Of course, if I am wrong, then it’ll sort itself out and no one will be hurt. But I’ve got a real creepy feeling about the Chinese, and I do not like
“Anyway, there’s going to be just one outcome today, as far as we’re concerned. The President’s gonna tell us to get Linus back. Somehow. I hope.”
The commotion outside attracted the attention of all six of the American prisoners. And each man stood at the bars of his cell as the main door was kicked forcibly in, swinging back hard against the stone wall to allow Commander Li to make his entry. He was followed by four more American prisoners, apparently transferred in the past hour from the civilian jail out by the mausoleum.
Judd Crocker watched them come in, handcuffed in a line, all very junior members of the crew — Seaman Recruits — led by Kirk Sarloos from the torpedo room. Behind him came young Nathan Dunn from Alabama; followed by the black engineer from Georgia, Carlton Fleming; then one of the cooks, Skip Laxton, 19, from Vermont.
Each man nodded to the officers as they passed and were then roughly shoved into the last four cells at the end of the line. At which point Admiral Zhang Yushu marched through the still-open door, turned to Captain Crocker and said icily, “Tell your men they will cooperate with my technicians in a tour of the ship later this morning…and do it NOW, Captain Crocker. RIGHT NOW!”
“Fuck off, Zhang. You’re wasting your time and mine. I’m not obliged to do anything. And when we finally get out of here, you might find yourself a pariah in the international community for breaches of the Convention.”
“Do not tempt me, Captain Crocker, to ensure that you never get out of here.”
“SCREW YOU — you fat Chinese bastard.”
“GUARD! Remove that man from cell number, nine…now have him kneel on the floor right in front of his most insolent captain…”
They brought Skip Laxton out, and the tiny lieutenant knocked him to the floor with a rifle butt. “NOW KNEEL DOWN WITH YOUR FOREHEAD ON THE FLOOR, HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!”
The groggy American did as he was told, and once more, the Commander-in-Chief turned to Judd Crocker and told him to command his men to cooperate with the Chinese authorities in a scientific tour of the ship later that morning.
“YOU WILL ORDER IT NOW!!” he roared.
“The hell I will,” replied the CO.
At which point Admiral Zhang Yushu nodded imperceptibly to the guard lieutenant, who aimed his service revolver and shot Skip Laxton dead, clean through the back of the head. In stunned silence the American officers watched the slumped body, the dirt spreading red beneath young Skip’s forehead.
“You cheap-shit barbaric little murderer,” shouted Brad Stockton. “When this gets out, you’ll face a world courtroom as a war criminal. That was MURDER!”
“And it’s not the end, either,” said Admiral Zhang. “I am proposing to kill one of your men every time your captain denies my request. Because of your importance, and some of your other officer colleagues, you will all be spared for the time being. But I do not care if I have fifty of your more junior men killed. I’ll do it…until you see reason. I am, you see, playing for extremely high stakes, the entire future of my country. The death of a few American pirates does not interest me one way or the other.
“Now bring out the next man…the one with the black face…and have him kneel just in front of Captain Crocker…now, sir…will you inform your men that they must cooperate?”
“Very well,” said Judd. “Since I am from a higher civilization than you, I have no choice…Men, you will accompany Admiral Zhang’s technicians back to our ship with me, and you will tell him truthfully what he wants to know. And Li, you little asshole, I hope you enjoy your fucking tree roots for lunch.”
They all stood silently and watched the Commander-in-Chief and his security chief march out of the cell block. And they heard the door bang shut behind them.
They did not, however, hear Zhang’s icy verdict on the exercise. “I told you, Li,” he said. “The West is ultimately soft, and the words of our great leader Mao Zedong must always be recalled…‘Real power comes from the barrel of a gun.’
“And you saw it for yourself. One bullet. That was all it took. One small bullet, and they caved in. One insignificant life in return for the greater glory of China, and all of our people. The future belongs to us, Li. And all these years later we must remember the most pure thoughts of the Chairman.”
“And, sir, one question?”
“Certainly, my faithful Li.”
“Would you really have ordered the execution of fifty men, had it been necessary?”
“Yes, Li. I think I might have. There are few moments in a commander’s life when the end undoubtedly justifies the means. And, regrettably for the Americans, this was, and indeed is, one of them.”
The 13-hour time difference between the South China Sea and the East Coast of the United States was a source of annoyance to Admiral Morgan. He constantly felt that he was a day behind, “trying to play catchup ball.” As he usually put it, “Whatever they do in the normal light hours of a working day, it’s nearly always the middle of the previous goddamned night here. That gives ’em an advantage. Chinese pricks.”
And now he walked particularly briskly down the corridor toward the Oval Office, his gleaming black shoes pounding along the carpet, his jaw set forward, arms swinging, eyes straight ahead. The towering figure of Admiral Joe Mulligan, moving on a longer stride than his five-foot-eight-inch colleague, had to increase his pace just to stay level.
